


take my hand and let it spin

by a_secondhand_sorrow



Series: some things are meant to be [1]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: BandTrees, Connor is alive, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Jared Kleinman used to be in jazz band, Pining, Soulmate AU, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Swearing, Zoe is awesome, but that’s not new, evan is slightly less anxious, i have a will to live, just cuteness, look i don’t even know, oh yeah, so they fall in love, tally mark au, teem&up audiences for swearing, the author is finally selling out, yknow me, you get a tally when you fall in love au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-26 17:00:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18183308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_secondhand_sorrow/pseuds/a_secondhand_sorrow
Summary: So, it starts like this; Evan gets a red tally, and never believes it could turn black.Until it does.***(or: the tally mark au no one asked for!)





	take my hand and let it spin

**Author's Note:**

> tally mark au! effectively you get a tally mark when you fall in love; red for unrequited, black for required, and it scars if the person dies. 
> 
> this will be a roughly ten(eh)-part series, where each thing can stand alone but makes more sense when read in order. it’ll be following each of the deh teens
> 
> series title from ‘can’t help falling in love’; title from Ben Platt’s ‘temporary love’

Tally marks were a blessing and a curse.

  
From the earliest ages, you learned about the tally marks. As a child, you’d gaze at the wrists of your teachers or parents, wondering what the stories were behind each red line, trying to figure out if the black tallies were anyone you’d known, or staring with a kind of quiet apprehension at the thin, white scars few carried.

  
So it starts like this; Evan’s father gets a new tally mark.

  
For Evan, tally marks were… complicated. He’d used to love tracing the marks on his parents’ wrists; Heidi had two red tally marks that had linked themselves in his mind, almost like twins, standing before the deeper, black tally that she shared with his father. And his father’s tallies were more complicated; there were more of them, a few red and a few black, one white scar standing out starkly amongst them, before the final black tally mark he shared with Heidi. _Falls in love quickly_ , Evan could swear he remembered Heidi saying with a smile or a laugh, _but this time it’s lasted_.

  
It didn’t, really. It lasted for longer than his other loves, sure, but when Evan was six years old he saw the edge of a new red tally mark peeking out from his father’s sleeve, and after his seventh birthday, he could tell it had turned black. Shortly afterwards, Heidi saw it, and a few weeks later—mid-February, most likely—the U-HAUL truck pulled into his driveway, and then out, taking his father and his new black tally mark with him.

  
Tally marks never held the same meaning for him after that.

  
Through most of middle and high school, things stayed the same. Tally marks were rare, that young. Of course, a few started cropping up around fourteen or fifteen, but they were almost taboo; love at such a young age was almost laughable. Unlike a lot of adults, who wore their hearts on their sleeves-literally-and let their marks show, many of them would cover up their tally wrists as much as possible.

  
(Around freshman year, Jared started to wear more long sleeves. Evan couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Jared’s wrist. He’d wanted to ask him about it, but even though they’d been friends for forever, really, asking about someone’s tallies was touchy, and Evan didn’t want to disturb their familiar peace.)

  
(Heidi, too, covered up her tallies: it had started right after Evan’s father left, and he suspected that it was too painful for her to be reminded of her past loves.)

  
Evan didn’t care much for tallies. His wrist was clear, just like most fifteen year olds, and he’d soured to the idea after his father’s new tally.

  
But at the end of sophomore year, indigo-streaked-hair freshman Zoe Murphy took stage with the jazz band at their end-of-school concert. Evan had never really noticed jazz band, but Zoe-the confident set of her shoulders, her slightly more nervous grip on her guitar, and the small, sweet smile that took hold of her features when she relaxed into the song-drew his attention and sent his heart racing. He started noticing her more after that—dancing her heart out at a school dance, head bent over a table in the library while studying, a flash of her hair in the hallway as she ran to get to her friends. And nothing else came of it, since he was too afraid to talk to her; he was left with a fluttering heart and her smile filling his dreams, and nothing more.

  
Summer came and went. Jared found out about his crush and teased him accordingly. The school year rolled back around, and Evan resigned himself to a stressful, empty junior year.

  
Until Zoe came up to him, barely a week into school.

  
“Hey-it’s Evan, right?”

  
Startled-partially by anyone speaking to him, partially because he was becoming very flustered because _holy shit she’s even prettier up close_ -Evan only said “Evan?” which came out more as a question than anything else.

  
Her brows furrowed, and he could practically feel the apology radiating off of her. “That’s…your name? Shit, I’m sorry if I’m wrong-”

  
“No, no-Evan. Hansen. Evan Hansen, that’s me, God I’m sorry, that’s so annoying.”

  
“What is?” The indigo had faded from her hair over the summer; all that was left was a few vaguely purple strands.

  
“Oh, well, sorry, I just repeated my name when you asked me if that was my name and that’s so annoying when people do that, so I’m sorry-”

  
“You say sorry a lot,” she noted, a twinkle of humor in her eyes.

  
He’d never noticed how pretty her eyes were before, different flecks of gold in their warm brown depths.

  
“Uh-sorry.”

  
At that she actually _laughed_. Evan didn’t think he’d ever heard anything as beautiful as her laugh-it was warm and genuine, filling the slightly-awkward air around them with a sweeter feeling.

  
He was a little taken aback when he realized he’d do anything to hear that laugh again.

  
“I’m Zoe. Murphy,” she added, almost as an afterthought, sticking her hand out for him to shake.

  
He never learned the exact reason Zoe had come up to him that day, but when she’d departed with a “you’re not too bad, Evan Hansen,” he was left with a stupid grin on his face and a rapidly beating heart.

  
That hadn’t been the end of it. The next Monday, he’d been waiting for Jared to arrive at their normal lunch spot when a familiar person slid across from him at the table.

  
“Hey, Evan Hansen.”

  
His heart skipped a beat, and he returned her eye contact with a too-broad smile. “Hey, Zoe Murphy.”

  
“So, what’re you up to waiting here? Plotting world domination?” She cracked open a water bottle as she said this, fixing him with a look that she may have actually given him if she thought he was considering world domination. 

  
“Waiting for Jared, mostly.”

  
“I see. Keep your secrets, then,” she joked, a small smile on her face.

  
It was easier to talk with Zoe than he expected.

  
“Ugh,” she started, stabbing at a noodle from a tupperware, “my English teacher-did you have Howard last year?” After securing a nod from Evan, along with a sympathetic groan, she continued, “yeah, he’s already assigned an essay. Eight hundred words on the diction and possible motifs appearing in _The Great Gatsby_ , even though we’re only like, ten pages in.”

  
“Howard is… a tough teacher. His creative writing unit is better, though, even though it’s at the end of the year. He expects less from it.”

  
“I don’t even want to know what the rest of the year is gonna be like.”

  
“I wish I could tell you it was gonna get better, but…”

  
Zoe merely grimaced, stabbing at another noodle. “Yikes. You said the creative writing was better, though, right? Do you like writing?”

  
Evan shrugged, ignoring how his cheeks began to color. “I like it better than most of English.”

  
“Are you good? I’ve tried my hand at writing, but it always turns out like a first grader’s journal.”

  
Evan laughed a little at this and shrugged, fidgeting hands returning to the table. “Not really. I’m okay.”

  
“Tree Boy’s being modest,” a new voice said, and as Evan turned he could see Jared approaching the table. Slapping his tray down on the table, Jared added, “Charles Dickens’ ghost would probably weep with joy if he could see Evan’s writing.”

  
Zoe smiled at this new development, even as Evan started with “oh, no, I’m really not that good-”

  
“Hey, trust your slightly-assholic-friend.” Zoe interjected.

  
“I reject the notion,” Jared retorted, “that I am at all an asshole.”

  
“You were in jazz band in middle school, right? Sat behind the guitars?” Zoe’s smile had dropped, and she was staring Jared down.

  
He seemed taken aback. “Uh…yes?”

  
“So you’d remember the incident with Cindy Rivera and the jar of tomato sauce?”

  
Jared stared at her blankly for a moment. “How the _fuck_ did you remember that?”

  
Evan was truly lost. “What-”

  
“Oh, I remember everything,” Zoe said brightly once again, turning back to Evan. She bumped her hand lightly against his, still holding the fork. “Maybe I could see your writing sometime?”

  
Evan’s heart felt like it could burst.

  
That became their new normal, over the coming days and weeks. Lunches were spent together, jokes were formed, the occasional car ride was shared. And if Evan’s feelings grew to the point where he could barely think of anything but Zoe? He did his best to hide it.

  
So no, it actually started like this: Evan gets a red tally mark and never dreams it could turn black.

  
That is, until it does.

  
He awoke one morning, still junior year, and caught sight, on his formerly bare wrist, of one lone, red tally mark, staring up at him.

  
He started freaking out almost immediately. He was only sixteen; how could he be in love? What if Zoe hated him for it? What if she didn’t feel remotely the same way?

  
And his father’s tally marks stood out in his mind. They were an image that scared him more than anything. Would Evan turn out to be just like him-falling in love too easily, never knowing who he could hurt?

  
So it’s long sleeves and dodging one-on-one time with Zoe for the rest of the year

  
No matter how much he tries to hide it, or suppress it, Evan can’t stop the somersaults his stomach does when Zoe smiles at him (which she does a lot) or how his heart flutters when he makes her laugh (which only happens slightly less) or how sometimes, he can barely breathe when he’s kept up at night thinking about her (which he does more than he would care to admit.)

  
He still can’t help but feel bad for pulling back so much, when he can tell it hurts her, sometimes.

  
( _Is everything okay?_ she asks, and Evan can’t help the sharp intake of breath he takes when she turns to him, genuine concern written on her features.

  
Instead he says _Oh yeah, I’m fine, why?_  
She bites her bottom lip, a habit he’s noticed her doing when she’s nervous or upset. Nothing, it’s just-you’ve seemed more withdrawn lately, and I wasn’t sure if it was something I did.

  
And it takes everything in him, right then and there, to not blurt out the whole story. Anything to stop her from looking so sad. But he takes a deep breath, and starts over. _What? No, no, it’s not-look, I promise you, there’s nothing you could do that would-it’s not your fault. It’s never your fault._ It’s just me, he wants to say. It’s all my fault, for falling in love with you when I know you’ll never fall in love with me.

  
She looks up at him, still chewing on her bottom lip. He can’t quite read the expression on her face. _Okay_ , she says. _Okay_.)

  
One day, Jared’s parents force him on a last-minute Family Bonding trip, so it’s just him and Zoe are hanging out in her basement, both in beanbags in the floor. Parks and Rec is on, even though they’ve both seen it a million times, and Connor had even hung out with them for a little while before retreating back into his room.

  
Suddenly Zoe said, “oh my _God_ , you need to see this,” and leaned over onto Evan’s beanbag, holding her phone up to his face. On it was the world’s tiniest hedgehog wearing an even tinier sweater with a tree embroidered on it and _damn_ , if that wasn’t the cutest thing he’d ever seen. (It’s not, though; as he snuck a glance at Zoe’s face when he was sure she’s focused on the hedgehog, he thought that expression of pure joy on her was even cuter.)

  
She broke her gaze away to look at him, still grinning dopily in a way that only a post-hedgehog endorphin rush can cause (even though that smile wasn’t meant for him, his lungs still constricted and he had to fight to keep an identical one from spreading to his face), she said “he’s your brother, Ev’. He loves trees too.”

  
And then Evan _did_ smile, trying to think up some reply other than _do you know how pretty your smile is_ or something similar because dammit, Evan, she’ll never like you like that, don’t ruin what you have.

  
(The tally mark on his wrist seemed to burn through his sleeve, and he suddenly felt self conscious.)

  
They were still looking at each other, but something felt different, then. The air was charged with a kind of unfelt electricity, a tangible feeling that was just playing at the tip of his tongue.

  
And he noticed, once again, the gold flakes in Zoe’s eyes, the deep layers of brown and lighter gray in them, just how striking they were staring into his own, almost like she can see every thought he has. He hopes he wasn’t mistaken, because he could swear he saw those eyes darting down every few seconds towards his lips, and he knew he was doing he same thing, no matter how he tried to stop.

  
The world was frozen, but they leaned almost imperceptibly closer to each other, and the moment was suspended in time as a _what if-_

  
Until Leslie and Ann’s fight cut through the air suddenly, their drunken shouting draining whatever charge there had been to the air, and even though there was still distance between them they spring back onto their beanbags, desperate to pretend that whatever the hell that was hadn’t happened.

  
And that’s the end of it, until it isn’t.

  
It (re)starts like this; Evan wakes up at the beginning of senior year, and the tally mark was black instead of red (did it just turn or had it been like that for a long time?), and he thinks he might actually burst.

  
Instead, he took a sip of water and attempted to clear his head, which might have worked if not for the text that lit up his phone shortly after he got his bearings.

  
It was from Zoe.

_  
so-we should probably talk, right?_

  
And so it really starts like-no, that’s not the start.

  
It’s one step on a road for them, but it’s far from the start.

  
It _continues_ where Evan meets Zoe in Ellison Park, and there’s a kind of nervousness hanging around them both, but then Zoe caught his eye and smiled and everything inside of him stilled, because if Zoe’s there to smile at him then everything will be okay.

  
She always made him quiet, in the best way.

  
Zoe stood, and Evan noticed that she was biting her lip again, something so quintessentially _Zoe_ that he could barely repress a shout that builds its way through his throat that says _I love her and she loves me!_ But luckily he managed it, since that’s effectively what they’re there to talk about.

  
Evan barely walked up to her and managed a breathless _hey_ before Zoe grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down slightly to kiss him.

  
He actually thought he had died and gone to heaven for that first second, before he regained his memory and could actually process _holy shit Zoe Murphy is kissing me I’m kissing Zoe Murphy we’re kissing holy shit._

  
Far too soon, Zoe pulled back and let go of his shirt, stepping away a little. Her cheeks were colored red and she quickly ran a hand over her face, across the freckles he came to love so much. She smiled that unbelievable smile, but she paused for a moment, starting to-apologize? “I’m really sorry, I know we came her to talk, but I’ve wanted to do that for so long and I-”

  
Evan cut her off by closing the distance between them, cupping her cheek, and pressing his lips to hers again.

  
She wrapped her arms around his neck almost immediately, melting into the kiss, and Evan wrapped his other arm around her lower back. He pulled away for another moment, but this time only to whisper “I love you”-which, in a world where love wasn’t visible, may seem too soon, but here became the most natural progression-and smile so hard he wondered if he’d ever stop smiling when she whispered back “I love you too.”

  
Tracing a thumb over her cheek, mapping the freckles like stars, Evan took a moment just to appreciate where he was right then, finally with the girl he loved above all else, before swooping in for another kiss.

It started like this; Evan believed in love again.

**Author's Note:**

> well I’m gonna go...wait for ben platt’s album. if you want to come find me on tumblr @itstrulyastrangerthing or @a-secondhand-sorrow for writing. comment and kudos if you’re so inclined


End file.
